


My Lucky Strike

by SouthernMoonshine



Category: Havemercy Series - Jaida Jones & Danielle Bennett, Naruto
Genre: College AU, Crossover, First Time, Glowsticks, M/M, rook's insults
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-12
Updated: 2013-12-12
Packaged: 2018-01-04 11:07:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1080294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SouthernMoonshine/pseuds/SouthernMoonshine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Dragon Riders as a motorcycle gang, college adventures, Naruto characters, the deflowering of Balfour, and Rook in dreadlocks. Also glowsticks, because everyone needs glowsticks. Warning for Rook's dirty mouth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Lucky Strike

**Author's Note:**

  * For [missnova (tnmnova)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tnmnova/gifts).



> For Nova. You know who you are, and why this is a thing.

> _You're such a motivator, you gotta get your way_   
> _So sick of saying yes sir, yes sir_   
> _You're such an instigator, you wanna play the game_   
> _Take it or leave it  that's her, that's her_
> 
> _I can't wait another minute_   
> _I can't take the look she's giving_   
> _Your body rocking, keep me up all night_   
> _One in a million, my lucky strike!_
> 
> _She took me so high and the she dropped me_   
> _She got me, she got me, she got me bad_   
> _Took me inside and the she rocked me_   
> _She keep me up all night, this is what it sounds like_
> 
> _Oh oh oh my lucky strike_   
> _Oh oh oh my lucky strike_   
> _Your body rocking, keep me up all night_   
> _One in a million, my lucky strike!_   
> _\--"Lucky Strike," Maroon5_

* * *

The first time Balfour Vallet even heard of Kamizuki Izumo, the man was on the back of one of the Dragon Rider's stolen motorcycles. Well, half-way stolen. Caius Greylace was Alcibiades cousin, it was true, and Alcibiades was really only an honorary member on account of being highschool friends with Adamo, but the fact remained it was instantly recognizable, with the dragon decal painted down the side of the gas tank. The Dragon Riders were halfway a club and halfway a gang, in the sense that hazing was often rough and they were very close-ranked, but they were on nobody's roster but their own. Adamo was the leader, the instigator, and the continued constant presence in the background. How he found time for that and teaching upper-division history classes at the local college, nobody was quite sure, but however the meeting began Adamo was usually along in some form or another.

Balfour was the very junior member, newest of the new, and very self-conscious still of the new paint job on his bike. Silver and chrome, he matched Amery's bike, and felt a little like he was just tagging along after his older brother, much like Hilary did with Rook. Hilary was terrified of the motorcycles, but it was rare Rook showed up without Hilary on behind him, clinging to his brother and wide-eyed under his helmet. Granted, Rook drove like a maniac, and Balfour could see why Hilary was always, always looking frightened. Amery had been far more sedate, carrying his younger brother to and from classes, until Balfour had learned to drive on his own. He had a knack for it, and had only ever laid his bike down once.

They were all waiting for Ghislain and Ivory to show up, ready for a short trip out of town, when Caius and his friend had come roaring up laughing and wild-eyed at the fun. Balfour didn't recall much of Izumo except for a slim body behind Caius's blonde form, a smile somewhere in the blonde flyaway hair, and Adamo scolding roughly.

"But I'm here to invite you to the party!" Caius had exclaimed, and Balfour knew there was a student-body organized party going on over the weekend, but he tended to stay away from these things. Not only had Amery told him to, Balfour needed good grades, even in his very basic core freshman classes, to get into med school. Balfour leaned on Amery's bike and watched with dismay as the two had gone careening off, too fast, and really hoped they both didn't come to a bad end. Adamo was grumbling about how Caius was getting mixed into the wrong crowd, and his cousin had better bail him out soon, if he was with the likes of the party scene like Izumo. Rook snorted and said it wasn't so bad, but Compagnon said that if Izumo was there, the rest of those art students and trouble-makers would be no far off, and they were the ones responsible for the drug-raid on campus last week, the one where the police had made off with quite a lot of ecstasy and cocaine and PCP.

Ghislain and Ivory showed up then, but the matter was far from over.

The Dragon Riders descended in force on the night of the party to help their honorary brother extract his wayward cousin.

Balfour wasn't quite sure what he'd expected. The dimly-lit room, the loud music, the bodies packed onto the dance floor in every shade of colour and every kind of clothes. There were glowsticks, glitter, and the smell of cheap greasy pizza. Spilled coke and beer and Balfour sidestepped a puddle. There was Caius, surfacing from the crowd, peacock feathers in his hair and glowstick bracelets at his wrists. He startled back at the general movement towards him.

Balfour left them to it, because he'd seen another familiar face, and yes, that was Izumo. And he was dancing. Balfour'd heard the man danced like a demon, but as he watched and his cheeks flushed and his eyes widened he'd decided that rumor was wrong; Izumo danced like sex. Balfour couldn't look away and wasn't sure he wanted to, mesmerized at the roll of hips, the sway of shoulders, the way Izumo threw his head back and laughed near-soundlessly under the music. He was mortified when Izumo saw him, caught him watching, and tried to slink away when the shorter man extracted himself from the crowd and slithered up to him.

"Hey, c'mon, dance?" Izumo called, catching Balfour's gloved hand.

"Don't know how," Balfour returned.

Izumo shook his head with a grin. “Easy, c’mere, I’ll teach you,” he returned, and pulled at Balfour’s hand. Balfour hesitated, but he’d lost sight of Amery now, and really, what was the harm in it? Izumo’s grin was friendly; he had a glowstick between his teeth and looked like a witch from a story when he grinned. But he took Balfour to the edge of the crowd, stepped close, and taught him something he called the two-step. It wasn’t hard, and Balfour liked the concentration. He knew how to waltz and tango, but this was different, and Izumo was laughing.

“That’s right, you’ve got it,” Izumo told him, and as the song changed laughed and rolled his hips to the new rhythm. Balfour felt himself blush scarlet, bright and violent, and Izumo’s hands landed on his hips, guided him, and Balfour felt almost helpless as he went along with it. It was so incredibly _lewd_ and felt so strange but Izumo was laughing with his head thrown back, and the line of his throat was clean and beautiful and perfect.  
  
Balfour wasn’t quite sure how it happened, but Izumo’s backlit grin and compact warm body were suddenly right up against him, and there were warm lips on his, and they were still swaying with the music. Izumo tasted like cigarettes and whiskey and rich dark coffee, fresh and bitter, and when he leaned back Balfour was gasping for air, Izumo’s thigh rubbing against his, Izumo’s dark eyes bright and cheerful.  
  
That glowstick was in _his_ mouth now, Balfour realized with something like panic. His first kiss, and it was from another man, and at the kind of party he’d always been told to avoid, and he rolled the glowstick in his mouth and could still taste the bite of Izumo’s kiss on it. He felt dizzy, half-frightened and half-exhilarated, like flying down a hairpin turn of a country mountain road at top speed on his bike. He wanted to taste Izumo again, didn’t know how to say it, wasn’t sure he should want to.  
  
He stammered something, escaped Izumo’s hold, and found a corner of the room to stand in and breathe until he didn’t feel so lightheaded. Where was Amery, and the others? He couldn’t see them. They were probably gone - wait, was that Rook’s dreads? No, no it wasn’t. Good. Rook was awful sometimes, when Amery’s back was turned.  
  
A dark form slithered up; Izumo again, grinning. “Hey, alright?” he asked, and touched Balfour on the shoulder, fingers sliding over the leather of his riding jacket.  
  
“I...yeah...just...needed to breathe,” Balfour said, uncertain, watching the way Izumo’s lips curled into a brighter smile.   
  
“Oh, good,” said Izumo, and kissed him again.  
  
He tasted just the same as he had earlier, only now with a sharp sugary overlay, like he’d eaten something sweet in the interim, and Balfour found himself wrapping his arms around the shorter man, chasing the taste clumsily with his tongue. Izumo slid his hands up Balfour’s back under the leather jacket, fingers sure and arched into Balfour like a hot night dream. Lips teeth and tongue, the strange sensation of saliva not his own, the way Izumo’s hips were narrower than his own and rested against his, one thigh trapped between his, and Balfour figured out he could breathe through his nose instead of too-shallow gasps between their lips meeting.  
  
So _this_ was why all the fuss about kissing - Balfour felt like every nerve was jumping electric, wild and alive, and couldn’t get enough of the way Izumo tasted.  
  
“I always knew you were a fucking fag,” Rook said, right beside Balfour’s ear, and Balfour started so badly he nearly fell over, feet tangled with Izumo’s.  
  
Izumo, the glowstick between his teeth now, grinned at Rook. “Like you’ve got room to talk, manslut.”  
  
Rook, with a glowstick tucked behind an ear, a beer in hand, and several dark marks dotting his throat, just grinned at the insult. “Whoreson. Give him the clap and Amery’ll kill you,” he said, and turned to walk off.   
  
“Unlike you, most of us vet our partners for STDs,” Izumo called after him, and grinned up at Balfour. “Hey, wanna see my dorm?” he asked, brightly. “We can order out Korean - pizza tastes like shit at these parties.”  
  
Balfour had a vague idea of what the invitation might actually mean, but as long as there was more kissing, and Izumo’s hands groping his behind through his leather pants, well…would it be so bad? “You don’t have any, ah, STDs?” Balfour asked, stalling.  
  
Izumo laughed, instead of being insulted. “Definitely not. C’mon, Balfour, let’s blow this joint!”  
  
There was the promised Korean takeout, but it got cold and had to be re-heated before they ate it, laughing almost nervously with one another. Out in the light Izumo’s eyes didn’t match, weren’t both dark, one brown and the other pale jade green. Out in the light, his smile was still eager, his laughter throaty and rich, and he smoked after with careless curves in his wrist, eyes half-lidded as he leaned against the headboard.   
  
Izumo’s cousin and dorm-mate came back, rolled his eyes, and joined in their debate about history classes. Izumo wasn’t just a party-kid, he was an art major, a senior, and he was damn smart, far from the “wrong crowd” Ghislain had lumped him with, because he and his cousin were both on the Dean’s list. They gave Balfour study-tips and study cards before he left, and to his deep embarrassment, Izumo pinned him to the door and kissed him deeply before he left, right in front of his cousin.  
  
When the Dragon Riders met again, it was Balfour who came up late, roaring into the parking lot of the cafe and popping a wheelie to make Izumo, clinging to his waist behind him, shout and cling harder. Balfour was laughing, bright-eyed and a little too reckless, and didn’t even care when he saw Amery’s face.

It was a fifty-fifty chance whether Amery was mad because Balfour pulled Izumo in for a kiss over the bike, in broad daylight in the parking lot, or because Izumo had helped Balfour give his bike a custom repaint. Between studying, making love like rabbits, and going to parties and art-galleries and just hanging in Izumo and Kotetsu’s dorm room and watching Korean soap operas, Balfour had missed a few meetings. And Izumo, well, he’d seen Balfour’s bike and grinned.

“Dragons, in our culture, are creatures of air and water,” he’d told Balfour. “They are wise and always kind.”

No longer did Balfour’s bike match his brother’s, silver and chrome; now Balfour’s bike was silver and blue, the dragons bright and with a new distinctly Oriental flavor as they ran down the sides. Still the dragon rampant, still instantly recognizable, but different and bright and Izumo had painted the detailing himself, face intense, in the bright glow of creation Balfour loved to see.

“Hey fag,” Rook greeted, careless. “Even your bike is girly now.”

“I like the new paint,” Raphael said, staring. “Good work.”

“Izumo did it,” Balfour explained, grinning.

“Chinese?” Ace asked, leaning over to see.  
  
“ _Ryong_ , Korean,” Izumo corrected.

“So you’re the reason Balfour’s grades have dropped?” Amery grated out, gloved hands clenching.

Izumo looked unimpressed. He was a brown belt in Taekwondo, as Balfour now knew, and that was more fighting training than even Rook had: Rook whose cheek this week was a bristling mass of stitches for having picked the wrong man to fight with - he’d taken a knife to the face and had been lucky it hadn’t taken his eye.

“He’s a solid B student. Nothing to worry about. Cs get you through med school, after all,” Izumo returned. “You must be Amery. Balfour’s told me a lot about you.” Izumo bowed at the waist, formally, and after a moment of reining in his temper, Amery bowed back.

Balfour grinned. Looked like this would work out better than he’d thought.

“If that’s over with, I want some coffee,” Adamo rumbled, and that was that.


End file.
